Mutual Weirdness
by RgjIrishdancr
Summary: A series of Neric one-shots and drabbles. Answer the review challenge at the end of each fic, and I'll write from your prompt. Latest entries: Rule 9; Gun Twister: Tags to War Cries
1. I Loved her First

**I Loved Her First**

Nell had barely sat down and started to catch her breath when Randy walked up next to her. "You game to dance?"

She would never turn her brother down. "Sure." Nell dropped left hand into Randy's right and they made their way onto the dance floor.

She couldn't quite make out the DJs words until they were on the floor. "—first man in your life, 'cause this is _I Loved Her First_."

Randy met her gaze and grinned.

Nate turned to Callen. "He totally requested that, didn't he?"  
Callen nodded. "Yep, he did. Think he's trying to make a point?"

Both men glanced toward Eric, as he watched Nell and her big brother dance.

_Look at the two of you, dancing that way,_

_Lost in the moment, and each other's face._

_So much in love, you're alone in this place,_

_Like there's nobody else in the world._

Randy expertly steered Nell around the dance floor in a lively two-step waltz. Eric found himself watching the pair constantly, even though he knew other people on the dance floor.

_I was enough for her, not long ago._

_I was her number one, she told me so,_

_And she still needs the world to me, just so you know,_

_So be careful when you hold my girl._

Randy flawlessly turned Nell so that they were back-to-back before twirling her effortlessly around him. While it was a less complicated move than many they had performed on faster songs, Callen was drawn to the quiet, smooth expertise the pair executed it with.

_Time changes everything, life must go on,_

_And I'm not going to stand in your way._

Eric couldn't help but smile as he watched Sam dance with his daughter, but he kept being drawn back to Randy and Nell.

_I loved her first, I held her first,_

_And a place in my heart will always be hers._

Nate could have sworn Randy looked straight at Eric before returning his gaze to Nell, smiling softly.

_And I prayed that she'd find you someday,_

_But it's still hard to give her away,_

_I loved her first._

Randy expertly twirled Nell out and under his arm, the pair keeping perfect step as they moved side-by-side and then back into a ballroom hold.

_How could that beautiful woman with you_

_Be the same freckle-faced kid that I knew,_

_The one that I read all those fairy tales to,_

_And tucked into bed all those nights._

Callen watched Randy's face as he and Nell waltzed. It was equal parts brotherly love and quiet angst at the realization that his baby sister was all grown up.

_And I knew the first time I saw you with her_

_It was only a matter of time._

_I loved her first, I held her first,_

_And a place in my heart will always be hers._

Nell seemingly melted further into Randy's protective hold as the song progressed. Eric noticed (to his relief) that she wasn't trying to hide how much she had missed him any more. It always gave him a dull ache in his heart when he caught Nell studying a picture of Randy longingly.

_Someday you might know what I'm going through_

_When a miracle smiles up at you._

_I loved her first._

Randy held Nell in a tight hug for a second before whispering something in her ear and leading her off the dance floor. "I'm beat," Randy sighed. "Better call it a night." Nell hugged him briefly before heading toward the water cooler.

Randy looked at Eric, and the young Tech held the Marine's gaze for a long second. "She's yours, Eric." Randy's look told Eric that, deep down, he wasn't just talking about dance partners.

"I'll take care of her," Eric replied solemnly.

Randy paused for a minute before solidly shaking Eric's hand. "Thank you."

Eric let his gaze drift over past the water cooler, watching Nell as she conversed with Kensi. He was reminded of the last words he heard before Randy found him. _Maybe someday. _

Eric glanced toward Nell again and smiled slowly. _Yep, someday_.

xxxxxx

Reviews, please!

Review Challenge: Which lines did I leave out of the chorus?

Anyone who responds to the review challenge (answer the question plus a review, even if it's just "I loved this part") gets their prompt at the top of the stack.


	2. Identity Crisis

**Identity Crisis**

_On a stakeout/undercover op_

Nell purposefully avoided Kensi's gaze. "I dunno. I mean…I guess sometimes I wonder if we wouldn't just all be better off if I played someone else."

Kensi sighed. "Whenever I would say something like that, my dad would tell me the same thing: Be yourself. No one else is better qualified."

"Nell, there is no one alive who is youer than you," Sam added over the coms.

"Did you just quote Dr. Seuss to cheer me up?"

"Did it work?"

"Actually, it kinda did."

Callen hated to send her into the field mentally less than a hundred percent, but the guy had arrived. "Target approaching from your two o'clock."

"You got this, Nell," Kensi reminded softly.

"With your brains in your head, and your feet in your shoes,"

"I can do anything that I chose," Nell finished for the SEAL.

As she opened the door of Kensi's SUV, Sam's voice echoed through the coms. "Will you succeed? Yes, you will indeed. 98 ¾% guaranteed."


	3. First Arrest

**First Arrest**

_On a joint NCIS/LAPD bust_

"I'm just a bad guy with a gun," the self-professed bad-guy declared, "so if you'll kindly let me be on my way?" He edged toward the door, the sawed-off shotgun still covering the seemingly harmless petite redhead.

"You know," she replied, "there's a saying about what stops a bad guy with a gun."

"And what would that be?" he asked, playing along.

She glanced over his shoulder.

He took the bait, turning around to look for potential back-up.

He turned back around to see her staring at him down the barrel of a Glock. "That would be a good guy with a gun. NCIS, federal agent, put it down and back away."

The bad guy dropped the shotgun and slowly stepped away. "Put your hands behind your head and interlace your fingers." She frisked him quickly but effectively, a knee resting on his thigh as a warning. "You are under arrest for threatening a federal agent with a deadly weapon and numerous other charges we will discuss at a later time. You have the right to remain silent…"

Callen had expected that by the time he arrived, Nell would have the guy under control, perhaps on his knees with his hands behind his head. What he didn't expect was that before he got to the door, it opened from the inside to reveal his redheaded analyst pushing a bad guy twice her size, hands tied behind his back with zip ties, while rattling off his Miranda rights. "You have the right to a fair—"

"and expedient trial by a jury of your peers," Deeks joined in.

"I thought we didn't read them their rights when we brought them in," Sam inquired.

"We don't. LAPD's case, their rules. You put them under arrest, tell 'em the crime, and read 'em their rights."

From down the corridor, the partners could hear Deeks and Nell ask in chorus, "Do you understand these rights that you have?"


	4. Rule 9--Tag to War Cries

**A little bit…**

Nell Jones had always been a little bit OCD. From the time she was tiny, the redhead loved to put things in order. Toy trains assembled with the cars in rainbow order. Dolls lined up by height. Letter magnets stuck to the refrigerator in alphabetical order. Books placed decoratively arranged in size order; books on the shelf in alphabetical order by author's last name. The plates on the table must have the vertical design straight, and the utensils must be parallel to the pattern, napkins folded perfectly with the pre-folded side on top and the fold toward the plate. Generally, the less obvious the order, the more important it was. Stuffed animals on the bed had to be placed in certain positions, always and without fail. The pantry had to be organized with cooking goods in a U on the lower shelves, in alphabetical order around and height order by depth, and prepared foods on the top shelf with cereal on the right and other things moving towards the left. The storage baskets on the steps must be arranged with books on top, then magazines, then puzzles, and cars on the bottom. Dare anyone disobey the order, it must immediately be fixed. Or else. When anyone asked her _why_ things _had_ to be that way, her reply was always "because it's right!" (Such conversations usually immediately proceeded or followed a monumental meltdown. Eventually, people quit asking.)

The string of therapists that began in kindergarten, waxing and waning through middle and high school with her suspensions, called it a "calming behavior". It suited Nell just fine, as the reasoning was instituted in her "how to keep this kid from becoming a problem" plan (since, without a single diagnosis, she did not qualify for a 504 plan or an IEP). It allowed her to leave her seat (after finishing a paper twice as fast as the rest of the class) and sort buckets of crayons by color, length, and brand if she felt like it, in kindergarten, and let her skip the useless "flex time" in middle school (supposedly for doing homework, but hers was always done) and go help reshelf books in the library. In high school, her chemistry teacher appointed her stockroom assistant after discovering this quirk, though he called it a talent. Usually, by her last period class, the entire chemistry walk-in closet was a disaster; once she finished the experiment for that class, she used the rest of the ridiculously long block-system period to systematically and completely overhaul the stock room. Chemicals were arranged in alphabetical order, and by molarity under each chemical; beakers, pipets, and burettes were sorted by capacity and type.

Now, her organization ensured files were always in a logical and easy-to-find location. Papers needing signatures were sorted in order from the Ops center to the bullpen, and clockwise within each work area.

xxxxxx

Eric Beale had always been a little bit OCD. It made his mother's life easier, since young Eric's possessions were always impeccably straight. His trains (always assembled) formed an s-curving snake in their basket; books lined up on his shelves always formed a flush row of spines; his bed was always made to past-military standards. However, many people sabotaged the behavior by saying he was "overreacting" or "being too sensitive" when someone disturbed his stuff. Eventually, after some "inappropriate" and "passive-aggressive" means on Eric's part that included finishing trashing one of his brother's room, locks were installed on all the Beale household's bedroom doors, and Eric's room returned to a haven of peace.

Still, the behavior appeared outside of his room. Volumes on the TV or stereo had to be divisible by 10, 5, or at the very least 2. All clocks had to be exactly on time, and woe to anyone who set the microwave for such an un-round time as 2 minutes, 17 seconds. In fact, pretty much any number he encountered had to be either exact (with the proper number of significant figures) or round. Period.

As he got older, the brunt of Eric's rebellion against disorder fell on himself. He spent hours each night obsessing over homework, since everything he turned in had to be perfect. The drive was only exacerbated by his parents: they rarely praised high grades, but berated any low grade, starting with an A-. He rarely slept more than 6 hours a night during high school, all but hibernating on non-project weekends.

When he hit rock bottom during college (for completely different reasons), he finally identified his obsession with perfect as partly trying to prove his value; the realization somewhat tempered the drive, but he still held onto high standards.

Years of training himself for perfection made Eric good at his job; he could trust that anything he put in his computer was right, the first time. Since he trusted his own work to keep the team safe, he had a hard time letting someone else work backing the team without breathing down her neck.

xxxxxx

The first thing Nell liked about Eric was that he respected her obsessiveness. He hadn't batted an eye when she told him what order the files were in. More than just respecting her obsessiveness, he had actually come back later and told her it had made his job easier. And little by little she felt she was earning his respect and trust.

xxxxxx

The first thing Eric liked about Nell was that she respective his obsessiveness. Sure, she hadn't been happy about him breathing down her neck constantly, but once he explained why, she had replied with "Sure, makes sense." After that, she started offering him opportunities to verify her work. And little by little she earned his respect and trust.

xxxxxx

Some personality traits attract those who share them. Other quirks divide similar personalities. Most people would place obsessiveness in the latter category, but, for Nell Jones and Eric Beale, it was what first brought them together.


	5. Gun Twister--Tag to War Cries

**Gun Twister**

**A/N**: So what if gun twister wasn't just something Deeks made up on the spur of the moment? Here's my idea:

Assistant Director Owen Granger had though Deeks was messing around with his gun twister comment. Truth be told, the Detective half was, but the other half saved his skin a couple of times.

"You see," he told the petite analyst crouched opposite him on the mat, "the point of the game is to figure out how to go you being disarmed and down to the other guy being disarmed and down, not necessarily in that order." He handed Nell a water gun, by the barrel as if he was handing over an actual firearm. "We're both armed, and the goal is to get out of whatever crazy position you're in without getting, um, squirted. Ideally, take down the other guy, too, or you end up right back where you started. So, who's on the mat first?"

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Okay, I guess that would be me. Put your back to me and hold your gun as if you were clearing a room. Oh, I forgot the most important rule—play gentle. If you, say, pull a Kensi and knife-hand me below the belt, just stop short and I'll—"

"curl up in a fetal position like I actually did hit you," she finished.

"Right. Okay, now turn around and act like you're clearing a room."

Nell walked toward the center of the mat, sensing Deeks' presence behind her.

"Put the gun down slowly," he ordered in a low voice. "Hands up and get on your knees."

She slowly set down her gun, shoving it away slightly, and moved onto her knees.

"Hands behind your head, interlace your fingers." Deeks slowly approached her, intending to take her gun.

He never got there.

As Deeks moved directly behind her, Nell flexed her toes into the mat and pushed off backwards. Her momentum combined with gravity sent her head flying towards Deeks' waist. She stopped just short, and even as he fell backwards she reversed directions and rolled forwards, landing on her shoulder and rolling to her stomach, reclaiming her gun in the process. Pulling her knees to her ribs, Nell trained her gun on Deeks' form, jogging towards him and kicking his gun away.

Deeks winced as Nell shoved his shoulder with her foot, pushing him to roll onto his chest. A foot pressed warningly into his lower back as she pulled his hands together. "Geez, Nell, what are you going to do, zip-tie me?"

"You didn't say 'game over' yet!"

"Game over! Five to zero."

"Five?"

"One point if the guy is dead, three if he's injured, five if he's uninjured and arrested. Your turn." Deeks retrieved his water gun and started "clearing" the gym.

"Put your weapon down," Nell growled.

_Clunck_. Deeks dropped the water gun. "On your knees, cross your ankles. Hands behind your head and interlace your fingers." Nell headed for his gun at a safe distance, while keeping hers trained on him. She pivoted slightly to kick the water gun across the gym.

In that moment, Deeks acted. Fingers unlaced and ankles uncrossed, he dove across the mat onto Nell.

She heard him coming and jumped to the side, but Deeks caught himself before he suffered a humiliating faceplant. Dropping a hand to the floor in a monkey-like position, he pushed off and caught Nell in a half-nelson from behind.

Belatedly remembering just how she got expelled, he felt a foot on the inside of his thigh. Falling realistically to the floor, he opened his eyes to a water gun in his face.

"Okay, Nell ten, Deeks zero," she taunted.

"Owen."

"Henrietta. Does Detective Deeks ever stop joking?"

"Not typically. Though I think you might want to take a look in the gym."

"Because?"

"Good night, Owen."

Granger prowled quietly outside the gym door, waiting for time to slip in unnoticed. When he saw the detective on the floor with the analyst hovering over him, Assistant Director Granger quietly opened the door and slid in.

"Okay," Deeks was instructing, "Turn around." He snuck up behind Nell, holding a water gun inches from her back. "Put your weapon down and back away slowly."

Nell bent over to place her water gun on the mat and edged away from it. "Get on your knees, cross your ankles."

She complied slowly, as if not wanting to alarm a dangerous suspect. "Okay, now put your right hand on your left shoulder, and your left hand on your right shoulder."

Granger looked on in something between amusement and shock.

As Deeks edged up behind Nell, he shoved his gun back into his waistband as if preparing to cuff her. No sooner was the gun inaccessible than the analyst half rolled, half dove forward, rotating over a shoulder to land on her stomach next to her gun. By the time she landed, Deeks had his weapon back out—

Three squirts and two yelps later, it was over. Nell had water running down her face from her wet bangs, and Deeks had suffered the water gun equivalent of a double tap to the center of mass.

"That was highly effective," Granger stated from the doorway. Nell and Deeks both jumped, not having seen the man enter.

"What are you two doing, anyways?"

Deeks smirked cockily. "Take a guess."

"Turn around," Nell ordered. "Put the gun down and show me your hands."

Deeks complied.

"Get on your knees, cross your ankles. Put your hands behind your back, cross your wrists and interlace your fingers."

"This better not be what I think it is," Granger warned.

"Seriously?" Deeks asked, looking hurt. "You though I was kidding about gun twister?"

**A/N**: So, what do you think? Please review!


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